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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047542">Avengers: Hidden Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/echo_grace/pseuds/echo_grace'>echo_grace</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Temproray?) One-shot, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:55:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/echo_grace/pseuds/echo_grace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another post-Endgame fic following Steve around. Slight AU in that the last scene didn't happen.</p>
<p>We begin with Steve returning the Stones to their proper times . . .</p>
<p>(Ratings likely to change if/when this continues.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Starting out Gen</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Avengers: Hidden Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here's to hoping that purging some fic-beginnings from my brain-drive will make some space for my Tron trilogy to finish up. This story may eventually continue, but I don't know when. I may even need a cowriter for this one and/or its 2012 counterpart.</p>
<p>(I had only seen Endgame once, when I started writing this, so some details and timing are a little off.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>2014 </strong>
</p>
<p>            She lands with a sickening <em>crack</em>, her sightless eyes staring him down. His gorge rises, his vision blurring as Clint wails his grief . . . and goes silent. He forces himself to wait an extra thirty seconds before taking a peek at the ledge above; an empty tow line waves gently in a breeze he can’t feel.</p>
<p>            Right. Time to get to work.</p>
<p>            A deep breath pushes down the lump in his throat. He puts down Thor’s hammer and impulsively detaches his shield to cover it before straightening to wipe his eyes. She deserves better than to be left behind, but Clint didn’t know where he woke up, and Steve can’t exactly carry a broken corpse through time with him . . . . Maybe he can swing through again on his way back, though. Take her home.</p>
<p>            He nods to himself, then goes to kneel by her body. The lump rises again as he reaches to close her eyes. He releases it in an exhale, a tear slipping down his cheek before he lays the case flat and raises the lid.</p>
<p>            The Soul and Power stones brighten and rise of their own volition. They hover, sparkling in the air for a moment. Then the Power stone zooms up and away, a shooting star in reverse as it disappears into the alien sky.</p>
<p>            <em>Huh. Good. Won’t have to ask Thor’s friend for a lift after all.</em></p>
<p>            He takes hold of the Soul stone with one hand and pulls her out-flung arm in with the other, pressing both to her chest as he leans over to kiss her forehead. <em>See you in a minu-</em> <em>–</em></p>
<p>            She gasps, body jerking and going stiff as bewildered eyes snap open to his.</p>
<p>            “Nat – Natasha, we did it. We got ‘em back,” he says in a desperate rush, clutching her face as she gasps. He tries to smile as she blinks at him, gagging. “We made it, we won.” Her eyes roll back and she falls limp.</p>
<p>            “. . . We won.” He releases her, fingers drifting down to her neck –</p>
<p>            “Fascinating.”</p>
<p>            He’s on his feet, Thor’s hammer thumping into his hand and a snarl curling his lips before he can even process the word.</p>
<p>            “No one has ever returned the stone willingly. It has always come back on its own,” the dark mass says, a face edging out of shadow as it settles and asks, “What makes you so special?”</p>
<p>            He snorts, recognizing Schmidt. “Why do the good die young?” he counters, lowering the hammer, but not yet dismissing the forming clouds –</p>
<p>            “The fuck, Rogers?” Natasha whispers at him. “How’re you holding that?”</p>
<p>            He whirls back to his knees, offering a steady arm as Natacha sits up. “Language.”</p>
<p>            She flashes a grin at him, knowing the joke now, before reaching up to rub a temple. “What the hell happened?”</p>
<p>            “It appears I was wrong, daughter of Ivan,” Schmidt says. “A soul may be returned, if the stone is given freely.”</p>
<p>            “Yay, lucky me.”</p>
<p>            “How’re you feeling?” Steve asks.</p>
<p>            “Like I fell fifty stories,” Natasha quips back. “Seriously, how’re you holding that?”</p>
<p>            A bashful smirk pulls at Steve’s mouth. “I didn’t really want it at the party. Now I’ve got to return it.”</p>
<p>            She eyes him. “Careful, Steve,” she says. “Your goodness is showing again.”</p>
<p>            Steve rolls his eyes and points to the dangling wire. “Yeah, well. You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything, Miss Heart of Stone.”</p>
<p>            She sticks her tongue out at him, then he helps her to her feet. She sways and wavers a bit before leaning her head against his shoulder and breathing slowly as her equilibrium resets. A moment later he stiffens as a cool wind prickles the back of his neck. Natasha peeks around his shoulder, and her spine straightens with recognition. “Wait. That’s –”</p>
<p>            “Yup.”</p>
<p>            She looks up at him. “And you’re okay with an enemy staring at your back?”</p>
<p>            Steve shrugs. “You’re more important than an old grudge.”</p>
<p>            “Sap,” she says by way of <em>thank you</em>, a faint blush touching her cheeks.</p>
<p>            “We have met before, Seeker?” Schmidt asks, ghosting closer.</p>
<p>            “You could say that,” Steve says, closing the case with his foot and passing it to Natasha for safekeeping. “Is your chronometer still working?” he asks her. “We’ve got four more stones to drop off.”</p>
<p>            She glances over it while he heads back for his shield. “Looks pretty good,” she says. “But I’ve only got a vial for the return trip, so I can’t go –”</p>
<p>            He tosses her the two extra vials he grabbed from 1970 and straps his shield back on. “Dr. Pym modified mine to regenerate the particles every hour or so – I can even grow now, if I wanted to.”</p>
<p>            “Bet Stark was thrilled about that.” He ducks his head, but doesn’t quite bite back the wince in time. Natasha’s brow rises. “Did you two have another fight?”</p>
<p>            “Not with each other, no,” he hedges. “Let’s sync up – Asgard in 2013, then the Battle of New York.” He takes back the case so she can put one vial away and plug the other in.</p>
<p>            “I <em>do</em> remember you,” Schmidt suddenly says, grotesque face twisting with familiar anger. “<em>Captain</em> –”</p>
<p>            They’re gone before he can finish.</p>
<p>~ ~ ~ ~ ~</p>
<p>
  <strong>2013 </strong>
</p>
<p>            Their trip to Asgard lasts maybe ten minutes – just long enough for the Reality stone to slither out of the case towards Dr. Foster’s restless voice, and for Steve to drop off the hammer somewhere younger-Thor might’ve ‘accidently’ left it a few turns away. He strokes the handle in a final farewell, mentally thanking it for its help before turning his back on it for good. It whips past him a moment later, and a gleeful cry reaches Steve’s ears from the next tower over.</p>
<p>            Natasha gives him a knowing-but-sympathetic smirk before they depart, no one the wiser about their presence . . . to their knowledge, at least.</p>
<p>~ ~ ~ ~ ~</p>
<p>
  <strong>2012 </strong>
</p>
<p>            New York’s a decidedly different affair, though they once again land in a conveniently empty alley just outside of the main event. Steve props the briefcase on a nearby dumpster and opens it just enough to retrieve the Time stone as he says, “We ran into some complications at the Tower, so I’ll deal with that while you return this to the wizard-lady at Dr. Strange’s place – you remember where it is?”</p>
<p>            She pins his hand between hers. “You’re going to tell me what happened between you and Tony, Steve.”</p>
<p>            “You don’t wanna figure it out on your own?”</p>
<p>            Her eyes narrow, but she releases his hand.</p>
<p>            “Aim to be back here in an hour. If I’m not back in two, reset to three weeks after we left. Got it?”</p>
<p>            “What are you expecting to happen?”</p>
<p>            “We didn’t expect what we got the first time,” he says, shrugging. “I’m not making any plans this round.”</p>
<p>            She nods and they split up, their quantum suits melting away until needed again. Steve hunches his shoulders and grabs the first abandoned ballcap he sees, even though it has a Yankees emblem on it. He puts in his earpiece and tunes it in to their 2023 frequency a few blocks away from the Tower and mutes his end, just in case.</p>
<p>            “ <em>– as I’m concerned, Sir, that’s America’s ass</em>,” Scott Lang’s voice breaks in as he enters the building. He huffs a laugh, half-hoping and half-fearing Natasha might be listening in, too, as he heads for the stairwell.</p>
<p>            “<em>Oh, look, it’s Hydra – not that we knew they were Hydra at the time.</em>” Tony’s voice punches into his chest, and Steve pauses, grip tightening on the rail as the hit lands. It’s the last time he’ll get to hear his friend’s living voice, and he can’t risk responding to it. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut in grief, then starts taking stairs two and three at a time in hopes that it’ll tune out everything but the flow of words –</p>
<p>            “HULK HATE STAIRS!” reverberates in the stairwell when he’s between floors eight and nine.</p>
<p>            <em>Well that’s a helpful distraction.</em> He pauses, tries to calculate, then continues his own bounding. Floor ten . . . twelve . . . fifteen . . . nineteen.</p>
<p>            Concrete dust starts falling on him at twenty-three, so he presses into the exit alcove and waits. Seconds later, a hunched-over Hulk shuffle-steps toward him and he sees the problem. “Wow, I don’t blame you,” he accidently thinks out loud, looking at how one foot spans three-almost-four steps while the other barely balances when placed in an awkward sideways position.</p>
<p>            Hulk pauses and growls at him.</p>
<p>            Steve blinks back, then adds, “It must be incredibly painful – and <em>annoying</em> – to walk down so many stairs that don’t fit your feet.”</p>
<p>            Hulk blinks at him.</p>
<p>            “At least you’re almost to the lobby, and you won’t have to deal with them again anytime soon.”</p>
<p>            Hulk sniffs, then trundles past Steve, muttering to himself.</p>
<p>            <em>About the best that could be expected</em>, he figures. He waits for Hulk to get a couple more floors down before continuing his own journey, exiting onto twenty-seven just as Hulk roars his entrance into the lobby and destroys Tony’s half of the mission.</p>
<p>            He props himself on a desk about midway out to the walkway bridge, chuckling as his former selves confront each other . . . and waits. The floor shakes as his two selves crash-land, and he slips down to the floor as a precaution, not willing to risk getting seen by either of them.</p>
<p>            “<em>Bucky . . . is . . . alive</em>,” his more-recent self eventually chokes out, and he just . . . can’t anymore.</p>
<p>            “Jarvis, you read?” he calls, not expecting an answer. “If you’re still in Shield’s database, start digging up anything and everything related to Hydra or the Winter Soldier.”</p>
<p>            “<em>Wow . . . that <strong>is</strong> America’s ass.</em>” He peeks out, and watches his other self grab the staff and go the other way.</p>
<p>            “When it leads you to Sokovia and Camp Lehigh, tread very, <em>very</em> carefully. I’d rather not lose you if we can help it.” He waits a few extra heartbeats before heading out to the bridge and setting the case down near his younger-self, who’s already twitching, fighting the sleep spell. He opens the case and the Mind stone floats out, settling itself near the edge of the bridge as blue and brass wrap around it again.</p>
<p>            His younger-self growls, fist clenching. Steve reaches out and strokes his cap, murmuring, “An chuid eile, grá. Tugann aingeal an Tiarna aire duit.” Other Steve relaxes, just as Ma had trained him. Sorrow rises out of his gut, forcing tears to blur his vision. “Tell Tony I was wrong . . . and I’m sorry.” He grabs his suitcase and runs, unable to hold his emotion down anymore.</p>
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